The Portrait of S Snape vs Cristmas
by Pytilovsky
Summary: Snape was never a happy child and was never fond of Xmas.Now, as he, who hates xmas, steals the portrait of S.S, which side will the outstanding wizard take? Will his portrait be back to headmasters council again?


It was a hard day's night for Hagrid. Walking down some brightly illuminated muggle street, he was desperately felling his numerous pockets for apparating powder. Blimey, it cant've gone! He wanted badly to sleep, but the hunger he felt was even worse. It drove wandless Hagrid to Burger World.

"I gonna 'ev two big Macs an' tee, please."

"Two big Macs and tee!" the girl said staring at Hagrid incredulously, as he was murmuring the muggle money making spell. "Bon appetit!"

Hagrid walked to the free table -the tray in both hands and something like wrapped picture underarm - trying to ignore the curious looks of the muggles. He did his best to occupy only one chair and started the snack feeling most uncomfortable.

"Should've put the powder in the righ pocket with no holes… If no powder there, need to report the missing magical object to the Ministry. The fine must be high, huh?" thought Hagrid sadly, having a large bite of the burger. "Can't getta the headmasters' room staigh, oughta go through the castle full of students first."

Deep in thought, he didn't see how the square wrap disappeared from the next chair.

"All mine, mine. I have the portrait of the man, who knows the secrets of the most powerful wizard ever!"

"Merlin pants!" thought Severus Snape, or strictly speaking his portrait, after hearing the triumphed exclamation. "No peace, even for your portrait, old man!"

Snape blinked as the light came into – someone was unwrapping the picture. A moment later he was facing a happily smirking green muzzle.

"Oh no, a grinch!" Snape rolled his eyes.

He stared contemptuously at the muzzle, his left brow risen, hands crossed at his chest.

"Severus Snape?" purred the grinch.

"Yes," Snape uttered indifferently.

"You will share with me all the secrets of dark magic, will you?" the grinch demanded, his vicious eyes narrowed at Snape.

"I'd rather eat my wand, than a grinch will learn how to perform simplest magic," Snape said rather to himself than to the greedy creature. "What was Hagrid only thinking about? How could he let it happen?" he wondered.

"You'd better not speak to me like that," the grinch smirked cunningly. "Just in case you don't wish to get to the fireplace!!!" he yelled all of a sudden.

Snape, however, was not surprised. He had never been much keen on magical creatures, but he did knew that grinches were the most unbalanced of all. Many years ago, at his third fifth year in Hogwarts, a grinch had been viciously tearing the potion book out of his hands at one of Hagrid's classes. That time he had lost his temper and had stupefied the green git.

"The guys 've bad control over'emselves, righ? But we gotta be cleverer, huh? I mean not to show annoyance, see?" had been Hagrid's comment.

"Why you wanna his book?" he had said softly, almost tenderly to the defrozen grinch. "D'u understan it, huh? I mean it's boring, wanna a candy instead?"

Hagrid had waved his wand, producing an enormous candy, and had offered it generously to the grinch. The git had grabbed it avidly, letting go of the book, or, to be precise, the remains of what was once called a book.

Potter and Black had exchanged looks, both of them hardly restraining from laughter, as Severus had picked the book up. "Poor, old Snivelly , whispered Potter.

"Sh," Lupin had stoped writing down Hagrid's grinch -dealing instructions, giving them a disapproving look.

"Look, Moony, I'm really sorry for Snivelly, had said Potter ostentatiously. "He must have killed not just one night inventing the spells, chattering with his nose. Great work!"

"Right, I'm scared to think how would the magic world be doing without such a prominent spell as, say, levi corpus!" Black had urged to agree.

The both had been now laughing out loud, making Hagrid frown at them.

"I gonna ask everythin' at the next class, you'd bedda listen."

"Remus, we'll read your notes, ok?" had said Black.

"Still can't believe you, two of jolly fools, got through your OWLs," Lupin had laughed.

"But we did, man," had said Potter, as if incredibly proud of the fact.

Snape turned white at the memories of the trio. No matter how hard he tried to remember how to cope with grinches, all he recalled was the best-hated company: Black, Lupin and Potter.

"So you'll help me or not?" demanded the grinch.

"Sure," said Snape, realizing he had no other option. "Were we are?"

"Already at a place."

"At a place??"

"Yes," answered the grinch impatiently, reaching out for the switcher.

As the light was on, Snape found himself in a large living room, a big Christmas tree, loaded with garlands, toys, balloons, and sweets, in front of him. His portrait stood apparently above the fireplace.

"So, how to take it away?" the grinch asked smirking.

"No clue."

"You'd better not forget about the fireplace!"

Severus eyed the grinch with disgust. Imperative intonations came to irritate him. What is more, he really had no idea as for his possible assistance to the grinch: portraits couldn't work magic, as well as grinches.

"Don't make me repeat the question!" the grinch screamed hysterically.

"All right, all right," Severus said. "What's your name?"

"Stingus."

"All right, Stingus, why do you think you need the..," Severus paused as he saw a little girl next to the tree staring at them in disbelief. She must have heard the screams and came to see what was going on.

"Hello," she said busily. "I'd like to know who you are." She had fair curly hair and freckled cheeks.

"Sho? My name ish Besh," she smiled, revealing the white teeth, many of them obviously missing.

"I'm Stingus. Is it your Christmas tree, Beth?" said the grinch cunningly.

"Yeash, fadder shash dey buy it mainly for me," she answered seriously.

"Wait, you are grinsh! You want to take away my Chrishtmash tree??"

"Yes," Severus put in, before the grinch could say anything. "But don't worry your tree is huge and he can't move it."

"Shpeaking portrait?" she looked at Snape, her grey eyes widely open.

Severus took a deep breath. "Yes, look, once I was a headmaster in school which teaches how to work magic. When I ..er…retired, my portrait was made. It's not a common kind of portrait."

"I shee," Beth nodded knowingly. "It'sh mashic."

"Right."

There was a sound of broken glass: the grinch had climbed the fur tree at its another side, so that they couldn't see him, and had been trying to pick up the toys. As he had grabbed too many, they started falling out of his paws.

"As I expected, the guys are not very original," Snape sighed.

Beth frowned at the grinch, "Shtop it!" she shouted to watch him run out of the room.

"I dink shomeshing musht be done about it, Shir," she adressed Snape, full of concern.

Snape has risen his eyebrows: he couldn't recall somebody referring to him as 'Sir' without being previously warn to do so.

"I think so," he said firmly. "The only problem is that I can't do magic," he went on, almost to himself.

"C'n you teash me, Shir? You are a teasher, right?" Beth appeared to have heard it.

"Perhaps.." Snape hesitated. "But you see, it's not that easy," he said strictly. "And you are mug…"

"Anyway, I could have a go," she cut short confidently. The 'not so easy', unexpectedly for Snape, had only sparkled her enthusiasm.

There was a sound of smashed dishes. "Oh, no! He'sh in de kishen!" Beth cried and ran away.

"What have you done wish de cake?! It wash for mum'sh gueshtsh!"

"Shtop! Don't go dere, pleash. Not to dining room! You'd better lishn to me!"

"No-o-o! Shtingy! Don't taush de closh!"

A loud crash followed her words. As far as Snape understood, the kitchen and the dinning room had suffered the grinch attack and were now in a great mess.

Beth came back, "It'sh all over. "He shmashed everyding."

"Can you, pleash, tell me how to fihsh it, Shir?" she asked.

"Mum'sh gueshtsh can't shee it. It'sh very important dinner tonight."

Severus felt helpless, as never before. His plan was a sleeping potion for the grinch, it would be, of course, not the Draught of Living Death, as he would like it, but another one, called Languorus. On the other hand, he had never fancied a little muggle being capable of making even this simplest of portions. As for the mess, it seemed irreparable. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" would do to cope with the damage and create a perfect feast table, but the thing was that even the greatest wizard Albus Dumbledore had been practicing for two years, before he had finally learned to use the spell. Severus, all into his portions, dark arts, and Voldemort affairs, had even never shown interest for the trick of materialisation.

"Sho? What should I do?" Beth said eagerly.

"Er..We will make a sleeping portion," said Severus, his voice down. "It has very pleasant aroma, I would say irresistibly pleasant, so our green friend will definetly try it."

"Irreshishtably? What if alsho I would like to try it?"

"Good question, but don't worry - the portion works only for beasts. I suppose, you'll find all the ingredients in the kitchen. So you'll need two big spoons of cloud powder…No, it's too difficult for a muggle!"

"How did you call me, Shir?" asked Beth hesitating weather to get offended or not.

"Muggle means not a witch," Snape said sadly.

"Mousewhiskers!" he said suddenly, triumph in his voice. "Mousewhiskers, the substitute for Languorus, that's what we need!"

"But we don't keep anyding like dis in de kitshen, Shir!"

"You don't?? Well, they are pretty common…"

"Moushewhishkersh?? Pretty common?"

"Perhaps, you call it the other way…"

"Moushewhishkers?? de odder way? What do mice do widdout dere whishkersh?" Beth frowned.

"Mousewhiskers is a name of the plant, often used as nervine." explained Snape.

"I shee, Shir. Excuse me for a minute," said Beth running away.

She soon came back with a vial of yellow pills. "I acted in a play," she said seriously, "in de kindergarten, I wash a shnowflake. Mum gave me dis, sho dat I washn't anxious. You know, Shir, shpeaking in public can be shtreshful. It'sh valerian pillsh."

Severus eyed the pills incredulously, "Let's see, open it!"

Beth opened the vial and Snape's keen sense of smell unmistakably defined the presence of mousewhiskers, "Right," he said, "that's what we need. You call it valerian?"

"Yesh. What are we going to do nesht?"

"Stingus!" Severus called loud.

"He'sh not coming," said Beth anxiously.

"Stingus!"

The smirking green muzzle appeared from the doorway. "Severus Snape made up his mind to help me? Don't want to fireplace, huh?"

"No!" The room jumped for Severus, as Beth gripped the portrait.

"Don't even dink about it!" she said angrily.

"Come, Stingus!" Severus called. The grinch dashed to him, Severus fell, as everything around started shaking violently: the grinch was obviously tearing the portrait out of Beth's hands. Suddenly the green beast sniffed, letting go of the portrait. He picked up the vial with valerian pills, opened it and swallowed them all. Then he lowered himself on the carpet and kept smelling the empty vial.

"That will keep him busy as long as the smell lingers," relieved, Severus explained to Beth.

"How long will it lasht?" Beth asked, looking apprehensively at the grinch.

"Twelve hours or so. Thank you, Beth."

"Not at all, Shir."

"What about de mesh?" she wondered. "I wouldn't boder you, if dat washn't important for mum. She'sh exshpecting gueshtsh. She wash planning dis for weeks. I'm afraid she'll be devashtated."

Snape was by far not happy with his adventure, but Beth's ingenuous conduct somehow appealed to him.

"Look, Beth, magic is a tricky thing for a little girl to learn, and I'm just a portrait of one wizard, not the wizard himself, which means that I can't do magic," he said, suddenly feeling sorry to tell her that there was nothing to be done. "We'll have to resign to it."

Beth stood reflecting on his words. "All right, we can't do magic," she said finally, "but we have brainsh, and, actually, for reashon."

Snape felt awkward: the meaning of his portrait was to share knowledge, helping to seek way out of difficult situation. He, the person who liked speculating about delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses, who knew how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death, who would always underline the superiority of wit over wand-waving, now couldn't came up with any good idea.

"Well, there is one spell, very difficult one, and you may try it, Beth; but, to tell the truth, there is little chance it will work," he answered, thinking that it was Christmas, time when wizards' powers were believed to rise, and even muggles could get temporal conjuring abilities. He had never believed it, though.

"What'sh it?"

"Go to the dinning-room, first."

The mess proved to be great: the table-cloth, pulled down with all the dishes; cake, dug up with a candy cane.

"You should say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Severus repeated, "say it, rising your hands as if welcoming someone."

"Let's say it together," he offered, "ready?"

"Yesh, Shir!"

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Beth gasped in amazement, as the room turned to be decorated with garlands, the table was festively served, red candles melted in quaint candelabrums. Snape thought, perhaps, he was dreaming as the portraits in the headmaster's room often do.

Right away they could hear footsteps and laughing voices.

"Mum!" cried Beth, as about twenty people were entering the room.

She rushed to the slender woman in a pink evening dress, walking ahead of the group. Snape wanted to say something like, "Don't tell anybody what had happened, Beth," but it was too late.

"Mum, dis ish.." she paused, and Severus understood that he hadn't mention his name to her. "Sheverush Shnape," she said, still doubt in her voice. "Yesh, Shir Shnape, ish a headmashter of de school for wizardsh."

"Wizards?" the woman said smiling. Severus froze, striving not to move, as if a common muggle picture, when she took the portrait out of Beth's hands. He sensed a delicate flavour, very dissimilar to most muggles perfumes, as if of a misty autumn morning, or dew

on bitter herbs, when the woman's freckled face came closer.

Anxious not to show he was more than ordinary picture, he felt awkward under the curious glare of her grey eyes.

"Interesting picture, Beth. Who gave it to you?"

"Nobody. I told you, he'sh a wizard. And he helped me to cope wid de grinsh!"

"Oh, that green guy, who hates Christmas! I see, Beth. All right, place the gentleman on the shelf, next to your grand grand father."

"You are very welcome, Sir!" she laughed, glancing at Snape.

The shelf gave a spectacular view on the room. People at the table smiled to each other and cheered rising glasses of champagne.

"To the success of your project, Margaret!"

"Thank you all, I would never handle it myself, without you," answered Beth's mother.

"To Margaret!" said the blonde man with yellowish eyes next to her.

"You are very lucky with your wife, Allan," said the fat clumsy lady in the middle of the table, who looked much as if Hagrid's sister."

"To Margaret and the fabulous Christmas she created for so many people!"

"To you all, without whom my fabulous ideas would remain such forever. Thanks to you, they will soon come true!"

As the feast lasted, Severus thought, that muggles and wizards are generally pretty similar. They also like speaking about their winter holidays, families, plans, they cheer and greet each other. Beth was obviously pleased with the lucky outcome. Watching her, Severus thought, that he had never been that happy on Christmas, as she seemed to be.

"Are we going to winter holidays, Daddy?" she pulled the hand of the blond man with yellowish eyes, who was filling a glass with champagne for the rosy-cheeked brunette next to him.

He turned to Beth, "Of course, tomorrow."

Beth exulted.

Watching the muggles, Severus had nearly forgotten, that he didn't know how to come back to Hogwarts. The possibility to be found by the Ministry on Christmas seemed highly unlikely, as nobody paid much attention at illegal magic throughout the period. As guests started to hurry home, Severus waved to Beth, but she didn't see him and left the room to see the guests to the door. Margaret approached him unexpectedly, so that he wasn't sure she hadn't seen him waving, than quickly putting his hand down.

"Ok, perhaps you are someone's present for my collection," she said, interest in her eyes. She took the portrait and left the room. All Severus could see now was the edge of her dress; her thin ankles; and her cat-like stepping feet in the flat shoes. Suddenly she stopped and Severus felt her grip had grown tighter. The blond man and the rosy-cheeked brunette arose ,as if a statue, in front, sharing a kiss. The man turned, throwing at Margaret an examining look, as if waiting for her reaction. She turned around and hurried away.

Guests hadn't left yet, but Beth wasn't there. Margaret was saying good-bye, wishing merry Christmas, and laughing at the jokes.

As everybody disappeared behind the street door, she went upstairs. She set on her bed holding the portrait in front of her, resting her eyes thoughtfully at Snape, as if at a landscape. Severus saw her large grey eyes were filling with tears, resembling dull autumn sky.

"Mum!" called Beth, and the draught moved Snape's robes as the door opened. Margaret blinked in disbelief.

"Mum, we have gueshtsh," reported Beth.

"Who?"

"A big funny wizard! He came to take Shir Shnape back."

"All right, Beth. Tell him, I'll be ready in a minute," Margaret said, reaching for the eye drops.

"Things in the Ministry have changed for better, once they managed to find me," Severus thought.

"I'm a dolt, lost the portrait. If not your daughter, Merlin knows, what couldda happen," Hagrid was saying.

"Are you fond of art? I think it's a great picture, you know, as if he's alive," Margaret replied admiring Snape, who couldn't wait for the ordeal of pretending a muggle picture to be over.

"How could I thank..?" started Hagrid.

"Not at all."

"Please, take this," said Hagrid lowering the basket of chocoballs and sugar quills to the little table.

"So nice of you, thanks."

Hagrid wrapped the portrait just at the right time, as Severus grew unbearably tired of not moving.

"Thank you and merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Chrishtmash!"

Severus nodded to the portraits on the walls, who cheered and applauded, as Minerva McGonagall placed him next to the picture of Albus Dumbledore.

"Everything ended well, as I told you, Minerva. At last, it might be even interesting to go out of this room," Dumbledore said smiling and McGonagall reproachfully shook her head.

Severus couldn't believe it, as he sensed the delicate flavour, as if of a misty autumn morning here, in this room. Margaret? Who could take the muggle to Hogwarts? But the door opened and Neville Longbottom walked in.

"Professor Longbottom! How was your first portion class?" asked McGonagal.

"Fine, Headmistress! I've just tried some innovations and I wonder if I can make some changes in the curriculum to increase student's interest to potions."

"Well, I'm ready to take your new curriculum to consideration. I hope your innovations don't involve baking. Or does it only seem to me, that your robes smell of just baked bread rolls? "

"Yes..er, actually, I mean, no, it's Amortensia. I was looking for bezoars and occasionally broke the vial.

Longbottom shook his shoulders in confusion, as he noticed Snape's cold eyes fixed on him; but instead of a biting remark, he heard his once most feared teacher saying, "What do you think, Minerva, portraits can make presents for Christmas?"

"You want to send somebody a gift, Severus?"

"Yes, a little of bottle of Felicis." '


End file.
